The screenwriter will never go for this.Cameron had spoken to Malcolm Richards twice on the phone and both times came away with a chill. He was a British playwright who used his accent to intimidating effect.
“Cameron, type up an email to send to Malcolm’s agent regarding these changes,” Arthur said.
“Including the ‘fuckable Rachael Ray’ part?”
“Better to leave that out.”
“So how’s Arthur treating you, Cameron?” Brian asked.
“Terribly.”
They howled with laughter. Cameron took a sitting bow at his desk.
“He’s awesome,” Arthur said. “I can’t believe he’s only been on this desk for a month. He skipped his college graduation to work for me.”
“That’s dedication,” Brian said.
More laughs, but none from Cameron this time. It did sound a little crazy when he heard it aloud.
“You still got the diploma, right?”
“Yeah, Bri, he still got it,” Arthur said.
“That’s all that counts. The rest is just bullshit.”
Φ
Before Cameron went inside to the networking event, he sat in his car and scrolled through Instagram. His timeline was stacked with graduation pics. Friends in robes, shots of the commencement speaker, arty pictures of the cap on the ground. Classmates and acquaintances and real friends still in Duncannon, celebrating the culmination of their college careers. He got a lump in his throat. He knew it was all meaningless pomp and circumstance, but it still looked fun.
And then, because he wasn’t sufficiently bummed, he looked up Walker on Facebook. He was one of the few people who kept his profile viewable to the entire public. His profile said he was no longer at the Berkwell Agency. He posted a picture at a cupcake place that looked familiar, but Cameron couldn’t place it.
Working on my first solo ad campaign and having the time of my life.
Cameron reread it. Maybe he got another job. He wanted to text Walker and get the details. He hated being so close to the loop, yet out of it.
He put away his phone.
Inside the bar, the tables were arranged in an O-shape. A ring of chairs lined the outside, and a ring was inside. Cameron grabbed a nametag and a drink. He waved and said hi to other assistants he knew. Each time he went to an event, he knew more. People he didn’t know flocked to him when they saw his nametag.
Cameron Buckley
Assistant—Mobius Pictures
He got pretty good at finding decent people. They were the ones who were genuinely interested in what you said and didn’t immediately ask you if there were openings at Mobius.
Porter found him and clinked glasses.
“You’re drinking wine tonight?” He asked. “That’s new.”
Cameron looked down at his drink.
“There’s an open bar.” He sipped on his vodka soda.
“I know.” The wine in his hand soothed him. “What was your college graduation like?”
Porter was caught mid-sip. “It was so hot that day. I was sweating under my robe. My mom and dad avoided eye contact with each other over dinner. And then I got wasted with my friends.” He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Cameron, graduation is one of those things people make a big deal out of that isn’t so big. It’s a ceremony and an uncomfortable dinner. And I partied with my friends plenty before and after that weekend.”
He appreciated Porter’s concern, but it didn’t help. Graduation did seem like a big deal, although everything seemed ten times more momentous when viewing it on social media.
